


Unspoken

by ohmollyhooper



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Fluff, M/M, Post HLV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmollyhooper/pseuds/ohmollyhooper
Summary: Missing scene from Sherlock's time in hospital.





	

Sherlock looks frighteningly pale against the faded grey of the hospital bedding. John feels an uncomfortable twist in his chest as he takes in the dark circles under Sherlock's eyes, the tight set of his jaw. What is most worrying is how compliant he is with the nurses’ instructions. He doesn't say a word as they check his vitals, and, uncharacteristically, refrains from pointing out who is cheating on who, or who is secretly involved with a colleague of nearly twice their age. 

Sherlock's breathing is far too shallow for John’s liking, however, as he drifts to sleep, it fades to a slow, rhythmic pace. 

He’s stable, the doctors had repeatedly assured John, who finally releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

The third day after Sherlock is admitted, John finds himself with a cup of mediocre coffee clutched in his hands, his back aching after hours of sitting in the stiff hospital chair. Sherlock is asleep, thank god, he'd been sleeping even less at hospital than at home, probably due to the relentless poking and prodding that seemed to John to be at least every half hour. 

His dark hair sticks to his damp forehead, and on a whim, John reaches over to brush the hair from his eyes. He doesn’t realise that Sherlock has awoken until he notices that Sherlock’s eyelids have fluttered open and he is being fixed with that familiar, scrutinising gaze. 

He moves to withdraw his hand, but Sherlock shakes his head minutely.

“No, no, it's….fine.”

John gives him a rueful smile, but continues to move his fingers in small circles across Sherlock's scalp. Sherlock's hair is soft under his hand, his fingers occasionally snag on some of the more unruly curls, but Sherlock doesn't seem to mind. 

It occurs to John that it should feel strange, this level of intimacy, but instead he feels a strange sense of calm, one which had evaded him for days. 

They sit in the same position for a small eternity, until one of the pushier nurses interjects, brandishing a large syringe. John moves to let her past, but curls his hand tightly around Sherlock's, sliding his thumb across the delicate bones. He tries to ignore the fact that Sherlock's wrist is painfully thin, and resolves instead to ask Mrs Hudson to make those biscuits that Sherlock cannot seem to resist (despite his insistence to the contrary.)

When John feels Sherlock's pulse quicken, he looks up questioningly and is met with an almost hesitant expression. 

“I don't suppose you've talked to Mary yet.”

John looks away. “No.”

Another unspoken question hangs heavily in the air, but Sherlock doesn't voice it. 

The nurse pushes her way unceremoniously in front of John, and Sherlock winces as she, rather forcefully, jabs the needle into his arm. John has half a mind to have a sharp word with her, but, perhaps sensing John's disapproval, she scurries off. 

“You alright?” 

Sherlock smiles at him, “I think I'll survive.”

“Right.”

He can feel Sherlock’s sharp gaze burning into him, intruding into his thoughts.  
After a beat, Sherlock exhales somewhat shakily, and catches John’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers. 

John doesn't say anything, but feeling the comfortable weight of Sherlock’s hand in his own, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse in his own veins….

It's enough. 


End file.
